Hollywood Kids

by Jackie Collins

  Bobby Rush moves in and muscles

  Dad straight out of the picture

  by KENNEDY CHASE.

  That didn't thrill him, his publicist had assured him there would be no mention of his father.

  He picked up the intercom and buzzed his secretary. 'Beth, get me Elspeth on the line,' he said, drumming his fingertips impatiently on the desk.

  'She was around earlier, Bobby, shall I try to page her?'

  'Do that. Have her come straight to my office.'

  'A.s.a.p.'

  With a certain amount of trepidation he opened the magazine and turned to the article about him. There were more pictures, six of them to be exact. He studied the photos first, steeling himself to read the copy because he'd had a feeling - ever since he'd realized Kennedy had interviewed him under false pretences - that it was not going to be flattering, especially when she'd failed to return his phone calls.

  Giving interviews to the press was a treacherous path to travel at the best of times - with this devious lady it was probably a minefield.

  OK. So now he was going to read it. Take a deep breath, get past the headline and see what she has to say.

  Bobby Rush - a paler clone of Big Daddy, Jerry - thinks he's hot stuff, and he struts it all the way around the studio he acts like he owns. This is about the only time Bobby acts, because baring it all seems to be his skill du jour. What a great tight ass! And don't we all know it. Daddy would be proud.

  It got worse.

  Why is Bobby Rush a star? Could it be that Big Daddy used his considerable clout in a town so open to a touch of creative nepotism to get him where he is today?

  He groaned and threw the offending magazine across the room just as Beth popped her head around the door. 'Something wrong, Bobby?'

  He attempted to make light of it although he was churning up inside. 'No, I've just been portrayed as asshole of the year, why should anything be wrong?'

  Beth looked suitably sympathetic. 'I'm sorry.'

  'You're sorry. Where the hell is Elspeth?'

  'She's on her way.'

  It was unfair. The entire interview was an unfounded attack on his integrity as an actor and as a man. Kennedy Chase intimated that the only reason he was a success was because of his famous connections, and she droned on endlessly about Jerry, and what a fucking icon he was.

  She should only know the truth. That he, Bobby Rush, was a success because of his hard work and nobody else's. That Jerry would have been happier if he'd stayed in his shadow for ever.

  But no, Kennedy Chase wasn't interested in the truth. She'd tricked him into being interviewed and hadn't given him a chance.

  He felt so betrayed, as far as he could remember he'd behaved perfectly decently towards the woman, and yet for some unknown reason she'd decided to trash him.

  Elspeth entered his office with tightly drawn lips and a ferocious expression. She was carrying a copy of Style Wars which she waved in his face. 'I read it,' she said, before he could utter a word. 'I will never work with this magazine again. I am furious!'

  She was furious, how about him, he was supposed to be the star around here.

  'Elspeth,' he said evenly. 'How did this happen? I was under the impression we had assurances that they were not going to mention Jerry. That's why I cooperated on the pictures and gave them a day of my valuable time.'

  'Do I know?' said Elspeth, as if it had absolutely nothing to do with her. 'Did you see what that bitch said about me? She described me as unprofessional.'

  'I don't give a shit what she said about you,' he snapped. 'You're supposed to be in control of the press. What happened here?'

  'I am not unprofessional,' Elspeth said heatedly. 'Do you think I can sue?'

  'Concentrate on the subject at hand, which is me,' he said pointedly. 'Everybody in town reads this magazine, I look like a total jerk.'

  'If's not my fault,' Elspeth said, shaking her head as if to convince herself. 'I fixed up the first interview and you failed to show.'

  'I failed to show because you failed to tell me about it.'

  'Whatever,' Elspeth said vaguely. 'Kennedy Chase was supposed to come back and spend the day with you.'

  'I told you what happened - you should have followed through. I knew when she didn't return my calls she was going for a kill.'

  'I contacted the magazine,' Elspeth said. 'They assured me she had all the information she needed.'

  'Sure she did,' he said bitterly. 'She combed through my clippings file, picked out everything negative, and decided the father connection was the way to go.'

  'It's done now,' Elspeth said flatly. Too late to change anything.'

  'Is that all you have to say?'

  'You can't always have good press, Bobby.'

  He was fast losing patience. 'I'm not getting through to you, am I? I went on your word, you let me down.'

  'It won't happen again,' she said tightly. He had a strong urge to fire her, but he hadn't yet learned how to be ruthless. Growing up he'd watched his father do it plenty of times. The great Jerry Rush got off on firing people.

  Can him, he's an asshole.

  Give the dumb broad two weeks' money and throw her out.

  Prick, get rid of him.

  Yeah, Jerry was pretty good at booting people out.

  Bobby closed the magazine and pushed it to the side of his desk. 'OK, Elspeth, I guess there's nothing I can do.'

  'I guess not,' she said flatly.

  He wanted her out of his office before he lost it. She didn't really give a shit, all she was concerned about was the way she'd been portrayed.

  It had been a long day. In the morning he'd gone on a location scout. Later that afternoon they'd had a production meeting, followed by two hours of final casting. The casting process always wore him down - he wanted to give every actor and actress that came in the job, because he remembered only too well what it was like going on auditions and suffering rejection. God, it was the worst! Walking into a room full of people who looked you over with weary eyes because they'd been checking out other actors all day long. Then that awkward moment of silence before the casting woman announced your name. And after that you had to try and make a lasting impression in a three-minute interview. It was pure shit.

  Unfortunately he couldn't give every actor a job, had to be choosy. But he and Mac thought alike, and they'd put together a stellar cast. They started shooting in a week so it better be right.

  The good news was that working with Mac was turning out to be a pleasure.

  The bad news was they had yet to cast the lead role of Sienna, although they had several actresses on the short list. Mac had wanted Winona Ryder or Julia Roberts, but both actresses were committed on other projects. Bobby hadn't seen anyone who struck him as right, and since they were so close to a start date and the role was pivotal, he was getting nervous. He'd talked to his production manager and instructed him to schedule Sienna's first scenes as far into the shoot as possible.

  Sometimes it happened this way in movies - you edged right up to the starting line and then miraculously everything fell into position. This movie meant a lot to him and every detail had to be right.

  Style Wars would hit the stands within days. If there had been a decent article to go with the pictures he could have lived with it, but as it was he looked like the town fool standing there in his birthday suit while Ms Chase thoroughly trashed him. Just exactly who did she think she was?

  Beth knocked tentatively and put her head around the door. 'Don't forget you're meeting Mac and his wife tonight. Morton's, eight o'clock. I'm leaving now.'

  'Hey,' he called after her. Thanks for caring.' Beth had been with him almost two years. She was loyal and efficient. He wished he could find a set assistant as smart as her. The girl he'd hired followed him around like an obedient dog. He had to tell her everything - she possessed no initiative. Once he started shooting he knew it wouldn't work out.

  There was an alternative. Jordanna Levitt.

  Yea
h, sure, what a trip that would be. Spoiled Hollywood brat who thought she owned the world. He knew her type backwards, he'd grown up surrounded by them.

  Jordanna had gotten hired because of Charlie Dollar. Who could say no to Charlie? He was the best actor of his generation, a true original. And whatever Charlie wanted Charlie got. When he'd asked Bobby to give Jordanna a job, he'd said yes immediately.

  He'd hired her, but he hadn't seen her. Instead he'd palmed her off on Gary, who'd given her a tiny office in the downstairs production offices helping out in casting. Feeling generous, Bobby had also arranged jobs for both his brothers - Len in development, and Stan in accounting. If they screwed up they were out, but at least he'd given them a chance, which is more than Jerry Rush had given him. Still, he shouldn't complain, Jerry's total lack of interest had toughened him up and filled him with an unbeatable desire to succeed.

  Score a major touchdown. He was exactly where he wanted to be.

  * * *

  Morton's was crowded as usual. The same old mix of studio heads, stars, producers and agents. The wannabees hovered at the bar waiting for a table, knowing they hadn't a hope in hell of getting seated anywhere near the front of the exclusive restaurant. The mâitre d juggled his customers with his usual aplomb, guiding Bobby to a side table - near the front, of course - where Sharleen and Mac waited.

  Sharleen was on producer alert - primed and glossed and shimmering with steamy sensuality. She wore a clinging dress, dangerously low-cut, and her pale red hair was piled casually atop her head, a few loose curls escaping around her pretty face.

  'Bobby,' she murmured in a low husky voice. 'How nice to see you again.'

  'Nice to see you, too, Sharleen. You're looking sensational.'

  She sat up a touch straighter, flashing a megawatt smile and plenty of cleavage. 'Thank you, Bobby.'

  'Hey,' Mac said, greeting him with a wave. 'Don't know about you, but I'm beat.'

  'Same,' Bobby said.

  Sharleen pouted. 'I can see you two will be great company,' she said, 'I suppose I'll have to entertain myself.'

  That'll be the day,' Mac said with a dry laugh, already fantasizing about the drive home.

  'So,' Sharleen said brightly. 'I understand you're having a problem casting Sienna.'

  We'll find someone,' Mac said quickly, hoping to shut her up. They were consumed with the movie all day, tonight he wanted to sit back and forget about it.

  Sharleen concentrated on Bobby. 'I love the script,' she said, her almond-colour eyes burning with intensity. 'I read so many, but I couldn't put this one down. The characters are beautifully fleshed out, so full of anger and pain and real sexuality. It's very... European.'

  'Yeah, it's a good script,' Bobby agreed.

  'Not good - devastating,' Sharleen said passionately. 'And I have a sensational idea that will make it even better.'

  Mac was surprised. 'You do?' he said, wondering what Sharleen was cooking up now.

  'Yes, I do,' she said, still concentrating on Bobby.

  Bobby waved at a couple of agents across the room. 'What's your idea, Sharleen?' he asked casually.

  She leaned across the table and he couldn't keep his eyes off her very impressive breasts.

  'How old are you, Bobby?' she asked, running her tongue across her lips.

  He laughed. 'How old am I?'

  She sat back. 'It's a simple question.'

  'Thirty-two.'

  'Hmm... we're the same age.'

  Yeah, give or take a year or two, Mac thought. His darling wife was thirty-five, soon to be thirty-six. She was an actress. There would be no cake with tell-tale candles.

  'Really?' Bobby said.

  'Yes, really,' Sharleen replied. 'And we look pretty damn good together.'

  Mac had a horrible feeling he knew what was coming next. He wasn't wrong.

  'Bobby,' Sharleen said intently. 'Think about it. I could play Sienna. I'm perfect. And what's more, I'll do it because I love the script, even though Spielberg is interested in me for his next movie.'

  Mac wanted to smack her. How dare she embarrass him this way. 'For fuck's sake, Sharleen -' he began.

  That's OK,' Bobby said easily. 'Sharleen's right, we'd look great on the screen together, and maybe in the future we'll come up with a script tailored for us. A comedy perhaps. I bet you're terrific at comedy, Sharleen, and nobody ever sees beyond your spectacular body. Am I right?'

  Sharleen realized that somehow this conversation had veered off in the wrong direction. Well... uh... yes, Bobby. I've always wanted to do a comedy. Kind of a Marilyn piece, we share the same timing. But about Thriller Eyes - '

  Wouldn't work,' Bobby said firmly. 'Sienna has to be in her early twenties or the plot falls to pieces.'

  'But I thought -'

  'So I'll put the idea out there, Sharleen,' he said smoothly, interrupting her. 'You and me together in a comedy. It'll be a blast.' He clicked his fingers for a waiter. 'Hey, can we get a menu, I'm starving.'

  * * *

  They rode in silence, the powerful Rolls belting around the winding curves of Sunset full speed ahead. Mac couldn't hold back any longer - blow job or not he had to say what was on his mind. That was a cunty stunt to pull.'

  Sharleen took the innocent route. 'What stunt?'

  'That shit about you and Bobby looking so great together and being the same age and all. The same age my ass!'

  'I'm three years older than him, that's nothing.'

  'I'm the director of Thriller Eyes' Mac said sharply. 'The fucking director for chrissakes. How do you think it looks when my wife starts canvassing the star producer for the lead role and I'm sitting there like Joe Schmuck comes to Hollywood?'

  'I'm sorry,' Sharleen said, not sounding sorry at all. 'But I knew if I mentioned it to you there was no way you'd consider it.'

  'Damn right.'

  'So you can't blame me for trying. It's a wonderful psychotic role. I'd be fantastic in it.'

  'You'd also be at least ten years too old.'

  'Nonsense. A few adjustments to the script would take care of that minor problem.'

  'Minor problem, Sharleen? I don't think so. The script hinges around the fact that the girl is so young.'

  She pursed her luscious lips. 'You're being difficult, Mac. You don't want me in the movie because I'm your wife.'

  'I'd have nothing against it if you were right for it.'

  'I don't believe you.'

  Why not?'

  'Because you wouldn't want to watch me naked in bed with Bobby Rush.'

  'I'm a professional, Sharleen. When I'm on the set nothing else matters except the movie.'

  'Easy for you to say now,' she taunted, still using her low sexy voice. 'When there's no way you'd consider me for the part.'

  'I'd consider you if you were right.'

  'It's a hot script. All those explicit love scenes, the sex, the nudity... And the ending is so intensely emotional. No,' she shook her head knowledgeably. 'You couldn't take it.'

  'Yes, Sharleen. I could.'

  'So test me for it. Let's see if it could work.' As she spoke her hand descended on his thigh and very slowly crept up to his crotch.

  Oh yeah. Instant hard-on. She did it to him every time.

  'What do you think, sweetheart?' she murmured, unzipping his fly.

  'I... think... you're... a... very... exciting... woman.'

  'Good. Because I'm about to excite the hell out of you.' And with that she sprung him free and bent her head.

  Dreams do come true. Sunset Boulevard. Sharleen giving him a blow job. He was one lucky man.

  Just as he was about to come, a police siren blasted them from behind, lights flashed, and a deep male voice boomed through a loudspeaker. 'Pull over to the side. Do it now!'

  Oh, shit! Instead of an explosion it was a mere fizzle. Talk about a disappointment.

  Swearing under his breath, he swerved the Rolls into the side of the curb while Sharleen sat up, took out her compact and immediately began applyi
ng fresh lipstick. Nothing fazed Sharleen.

  The police car pulled up behind them and a good-looking cop emerged.

  Everyone is good-looking in LA, Mac thought sourly, stuffing himself back into his pants. They all came to town with the intention of becoming movie stars. Too bad hardly any of them made it.

  The good-looking policeman strolled over cop fashion and shone a flashlight into Mac's face, almost blinding him. 'Step out of the car, sir. And, lady, you too.'

  'Officer,' Mac said, trying to sound authoritative, even though he was sitting there totally unzipped and feeling somewhat insecure. 'Can you please tell me what the matter is?'

  'Driving in two lanes will do it every time,' the cop drawled. 'Your car was zigzagging all over the place. I'm going to have to ask you to take a breathalyser test. Please exit your vehicle.'

  Satisfied that her make-up was once again perfect, Sharleen spoke up. 'Officer,' she purred, 'I'm Sharleen Wynn.'

  His flashlight zoomed in her direction and hovered on her face. 'It's our wedding anniversary,' Sharleen continued in the same sexy tone. 'And perhaps it was indiscreet of me, but I was merely giving my husband... how shall I say it? An early anniversary present. I'm so sorry if I got carried away... causing him to become... overheated. Next time I'll wait until we're home. Promise.'

  The officer was in love. Boy, did he have a story to tell the guys! 'Uh... Miss Wynn,' he managed. 'That's... uh... not the smartest way to behave.'

  'I know, Officer,' she said, fluttering her eyelashes in an age-old flirting stance. 'And I won't do it again. I promise. Can we go now?'

  He was almost speechless, not quite. 'Uh... Miss Wynn, maybe you'll give me an autograph?'

  'Certainly,' she said, taking his pen and magnanimously signing the back of his notebook with a flourish. Thank you for being so understanding. I really do appreciate it.'

  'Don't mention it, ma'am. You be careful now.'

  'Oh, I will.'

  Mac started the car and they took off.

  'Turn up Stone Canyon,' Sharleen said urgently.